AuthorTopic: M3S-462: Name Unknown (Read 4128 times)

| A planet with a Stargate that sees heavy traffic. The nearest settlement is a twenty minute walk from the Gate. It is not in the Ancient database. There are boobie traps set up in key locations within the first mile of the Gate; only the inhabitants of the planet know what and where they are |

Nyreese would never forget the threat of a culling. Her people were a nomadic tribe, wandering the land, always living in fear of the Wraith. Everything changed years ago. When the Wraith ship had fallen from the sky. That was the day Aiden Ford staggered into the hunting camp—and her life.

She healed with herbs and medicinal plants. She knew what the human body could endure. Aiden shouldn't have been standing; he shouldn't have been breathing. He was alive, only because of something he'd later called the enzyme. He'd taken a massive dose to sustain him and, as he clung desperately to life, she tended to his wounds.

In Aiden, she saw a warrior, fierce of heart. A man who was fighting to survive.

As he grew well enough to walk, she showed him many things both about her people and about the world that surrounded them, and they grew close. He, in turn, talked of home, of the mission he'd been on a mission to destroy the Wraith. One he intended to continue, he said, as soon as he was able. An impossible goal, by anyone's standards, but his conviction never once wavered. It only seemed to grow stronger.

Aiden possessed the key to overcoming the galaxy's great scourge. No longer would her people be a human herd—a source of food for them. She could make a difference in his fight against the Wraith. The first of his highly trained strike force.

And they had grown in number. Keran, the disgraced Genii officer, and the second-in-command of their group. Martel, his head so often buried in his jury-rigged computer system. Lantar, a prisoner sentenced to be fed on by the Wraith, but freed from that terrible fate. Specialist, always loud and boisterous. All of them a family. They were waiting on the one person who was missing. Their leader.

The man who had united them all with common purpose had locked himself away, going on an hour now. He'd done so before, of course, but this was different. What could be troubling him so? Nyreese gave the men a look that clearly said stay here. Maybe Aiden wasn't in the mood to talk, but she wouldn't accept no for an answer.

***

Aiden was alone. The quiet afforded him time to think, to plan. That was what he did now, as he found he couldn't take his eyes off the proof of the expedition's return to Pegasus. These were the people who had betrayed him. After he had given everything for them. Everything! And here they were again, setting foot on a planet he had visited less than a week ago. It was no coincidence.

Aiden slammed a military issue combat knife into the photo of the young marine lieutenant. Right between her eyes, with all the fury his enzyme-fueled strength allowed him. John had left him to die that day aboard the Hive, and Aiden would not forgive. He would not—could not—forget the great injustice that had been done to him. He'd escaped with his life. Barely.

Simply because they—the people he had once called friends—all feared what he had become: a weapon capable of fighting the Wraith. He'd seen the way they looked at him. But Aiden was a monster only of their own making. If only they understood. The enzyme was a gift! But he could not make them see, and he was done trying.

To learn that the expedition had returned to Pegasus, he seethed, was perhaps no surprise. Some might say it was inevitable. He and Colonel Sheppard had some unfinished business to attend to, after all. A score to settle. Aiden's lips curled into the makings of a smile.

It would be a simple matter for his men to overwhelm one of the expedition's many reconnaissance teams. Capture one and surely John would come for his people. It was a weakness Elizabeth entertained. If the Genii objected, well… he wasn't overly concerned with their needs to begin with. Aiden needed only to call Keran and have him prepare the squad.

Logged

Far Dareis Mai

Life is a dream — that knows no shade.Life is a dream — of pain and woe.A dream from which — we pray to wake.A dream from which — we wake and go

Ares

Sitting in a darkened corner, Keran watched Nyreese get up. He didn't have to see her face or the set of her jaw to know where she was going and why. He didn't stir from where he was, a shadow in the shadows, quietly working on a modification to a long range Genaii rifle with a fine tune spanner. He too knew the sting of the Wraith, both in history and in person.

Setting the spanner aside he picked up a small rag, dipped in black tarred oil, and dabbed here and there before turning the rag over and inside out, and began wiping in slow measured motions, falling back on decades of training and habit as he cleaned and tuned the gun. Ford had all the ammo he'd need, and the string of Wraith primary metacarpal bones made quiet rattles on their string around his wrist, twelve so far. He planned on adding at least that many before the next new moon, raids or no raids.

Lantar was alone in his little corner that he seemed to like. He was in the cave but in a secret little cavern with a bunch of boxes laying around. Taking the knife from his pocket, he slammed it onto the top of the crate that he was seated before. Taking the picture from his pocket, he examined it. It was of his family he left behind.

A tear threatened to fall from his ducts so she he sniffed and shook his head as he wiped his face. He was strong. For his missing family he will be strong for. Sometimes being alone keeps him into his thoughts. No Ford. No Keran. No one else around. Just him. He watched the dagger and studied it intently. Not only his family was in his thoughts because he couldn't the bear the torment any longer. For as long as he is away from his family, his grief and longing will get stronger.

Still, he must resist the temptation. He must remain for Ford and his soldiers. He must hold onto that kind of hope and survive. His sorrowful eyes continued to study the dagger while he kept the picture clutched in his hands.

Reese finds Aiden alone and simply stands there. Her jaw set, she crosses her arms and leans against the wall just staring at him, waiting. She knows that he knows she's there, but she wants him to acknowledge her first. Perhaps maybe this time he'd avoid her lectures and tell her what's going on instead of her forcing it out of him.

Raucous laughter filled the old fashioned bar as glass clinked and conversation roared. It was always a gun place, to say the least, but there always seemed to be a bit of special atmosphere when Specialist, as everyone called him, was around. His laughter was loud, filled with brevity and bravado, always making itself known when he chose to grace the world with it's presence.

There was a brief interruption as Specialist took a large gulp from the clay pitcher he held, some home brew that lit a fire down his throat and brought him near the verge of coughing, but he still drank regardless, slamming it back down with a splash of liquid before continuing his story.

"...So he shows up, covered in this green military foam, and I say to him 'Hey, look on the bright side. The Wraith may think you're one of them'," he said, launching the bar into another chorus of laughter. Yeah, he was allowed to enjoy himself.

A quick glance told him that the Genii radio he had with him wasn't needing his attention at the moment, so he continued on, waving to the waitress. "Hey, another round over here," he called, much to her frustration. He had a bit of a tab here. Another refill, and he launched into another story

"Nyreese…" Aiden knew that look: the firm set of her jaw, the way she crossed her arms just so. He could read her as well she could him. Not that she needed to. The combat knife still reverberating in the dark wood of his desk betrayed him just as well as he ever could. He slumped into the chair behind him with a heavy sigh, resigned to defeat.

Aiden reached for the transmitter lying nearby. One good thing about being funded by the Genii: there was no shortage of supplies. His team was well-equipped in their war against the Wraith. Anything they could need, including radios. "Keran, make sure my team ready for a briefing. Nyreese and I will be with you shortly."

Aiden searched out her eyes and, finding them, promptly avoided them. Nyreese just continued to stand against the wall, waiting for him to make the first move, as he set the radio back down. "There's nothing you can tell me that I haven't already told myself."

Logged

Far Dareis Mai

Life is a dream — that knows no shade.Life is a dream — of pain and woe.A dream from which — we pray to wake.A dream from which — we wake and go

Ares

Hearing Aiden's voice through the vox on his hip, he reached for it and squeezed the transmitter twice to send two clicks through it, then set aside his weapon and switched channels, "Specialist," He didn't say much else on that channel, the man was already on standby and if he wasn't, well, there'd just be more for Keran to do later.

Strapping the weapon over one shoulder he slung it along his side, and hooked the radio to the other, switching frequency again back as he headed out into the main cavern, picking up a pebble along the way he tossed it into a side branch of the hallway, making it clatter and echo into the hidey hole Lantar called his own.

"Wash up kid... soup's on... " His tone was as dry as his expression, and he didn't stop to see if he was following either, just kept going until he made it to their central hall, pulled a chair aside, and dropped into it, one heel up on the edge of the table as he reclined.

Nyreese doesn't move from her position as she says, "I both doubt and believe that." She murmurs and finally drops one arm to her side, but the other finds her hip as she walks quietly over to him and sits on the desk, staring down at him. She pulls the knife from between the unfortunate woman's forehead with ease - despite it having bit deeply into the wood beneath. No, she wasn't on the enzyme. She refused. Instead, she underwent rigorous training to hone her natural abilities - which had already been formidable. She knew she could never best any of the men, but she could certainly put up a fight if need be. But she also knew that she would never have to. She had their respect, and Aiden's support. That was all that was necessary for her.

Why wasn't she on the enzyme? Simple - she didn't want her judgment to be impaired. More than a few times, she'd seen one of the men, and even Aiden himself make a poor decision after a recent dose. As the healer of the group, she needed to be clear-headed. She recognised that the enzyme did, indeed, have its advantages. But she didn't need them. Instead, she was there to support the others and be the voice of reason when necessary. In all honesty, the drug scared her. Given to the wrong person, it could prove disastrous. But she knew that deep down, Aiden wasn't an evil man. He was hurt, yes. Passionate about his work, and lost. He still needed her.

Besides. Like any good diplomat, she wanted the other side of this story. She'd never tell Aiden this, but she wanted to hear what the this John Sheppard had to say. In her own mind, she knew that the enzyme from the wraith was more than likely playing tricks on him. It might not be, but there was always the possibility. But the bottom line is that there is always another side to every story.

"I am going to assume that you are correct this time, however." She deftly flips the knife one and a half times, catching it by the blade, and offers the handle to Aiden. "We should go over the plan one more time, to be certain there is nothing we have missed." She says firmly, her lips set in a firm line. There were times when Aiden would try to get out of this part. She sincerely hoped this would not be one of those times, but just in case, she had managed to infuse her tone with pure steel and ice; everything that said 'Don't argue with me on this one.'

After hearing the hollow thud and clang of the pebble followed by Keran's voice telling him that the 'soup's on', Lantar made an inaudible grunt as he pocketed his picture after kissing it. Taking the handle of his dagger, he popped it out from the top of the crate, cleaned it a bit and placed it into his sheathe. Taking his time, he wandered out of his hidey hole and toward the main chamber where Keran is as well as the big table.

Taking a seat a bit from Keran, he kept his shoulders hunched up and forward as he continued to think pondering on what was Ford's next move. He felt tired and maybe a little worn, but when they start the mission then he will be a little more chipper. He still hasn't said a word yet because actions does speak a little louder than words.

Still, with Keran in the room as well with him, Lantar was actually hoping for a little conversation not that he will start one. He just has a lot on his mind.

"It's hard to mistake your friends turning on you," Aiden growled, as he reached for his combat knife. It hadn't been so long he'd forgotten – the whispered conversations, the way John and the others looked at him. Refused to trust him. Their intent was clear, then and now. As Aiden's soon would be.

But there was Nyreese sitting on the desk, and he knew she wouldn't approve. If this had been a few short years ago, there would have been no question. His coalition would have stuck without mercy. It scared him sometimes, how easily he succumbed to his paranoia… to his rage. Nyreese was his voice of reason. His light in the darkness. "No, no, no," Aiden began muttering. "I'm capable of being reasonable – unlike them."

He stopped to think. How would someone else – anyone else – react? How would Nyreese? "You and Keran should investigate. You tell me they aren't hunting me, I'll let them go. They'll never know we were there. Otherwise…" Aiden trailed off.

He was still convinced their motives were less than innocent. John had murdered his last team – beamed them straight off a ledge – and Aiden wouldn't let that happen again. He knew their weapons, their tactics… how they thought. What it would take to… eliminate that threat, if that became necessary. This time, when he met her eyes, he didn't look away. "I'm going to protect you, Nyreese – all of you. What more is there to talk about?"

Logged

Far Dareis Mai

Life is a dream — that knows no shade.Life is a dream — of pain and woe.A dream from which — we pray to wake.A dream from which — we wake and go

Ares

When the other man entered the room, dark eyes followed from lidded sockets. He always seemed to be lounging, half asleep, lethargic. It was one of many things he'd done ever since he was elevated from simple soldier among the Genaii; he wasn't the biggest, he wasn't the strongest, he wasn't the fastest, and he accepted that. He didn't struggle to overcome what he had no control over, unlike other people. He didn't get frustrated, or angry, at least on the surface, which made people nervous. And the lazy attitude always made people underestimate him.

The one thing he learned from all his training; All you need is the first strike. If you can get the upper hand, right off the get go, even a stronger, faster, hell even smarter opponent could fall. And so he waited, biding his time, conserving his strength and skill. He took enzyme half as often as the others, because he didn't burn through it nearly as much. But when he did, it didn't hold back, and with the way things were looking, the long silent moments Aiden was going through, something was coming where that first strike seemed eminent.

He didn't talk to the other man, just pulled out a military grade sabo knife, and began cleaning under his nails casually, heel resting up on the table edge, waiting...

The bar erupted into laughter once more, this time a joke not of Specialists making, and he was laughing along with the rest of them at the humor presented. He'd had another drink, or two, he couldn't really remember, but he was enjoying himself, and that was a good thing. He sadly hadn't met any interesting ladies as of yet, but there was still time for that, so he told himself.

Or apparently not, as the Genii radio nearby squawked, issuing a message that consisted only of his name. Hearing, he sighed, finishing what was left of his drink in a big gulp. "Sorry guys, looks like I gotta go. Duty calls," he called, to disappointed groans of sadness as he picked back up the radio.

He then pointed to the bartender as he moved for the exit. "Put it on my tab." This got a resigned sigh from said bartender, who was used to it. And Specialist did make a point to pay at least a large part once in a while, so he put up with it. As long as he paid for the damages in a timely fashion, there was generally no issues there.

Exiting with a wave, Specialist began on his way back to his little home away from home, breaking into a run towards the cave where he currently resided with the others. It was a trip that would normally take a half hour at least, but at a flat out run like he was, it would be quite shorter.

After their first meeting and within the first year, Nyreese would have reacted to Aiden's words with lectures. Time could play tricks on the mind. She'd been a victim of th at herself and tried to make him see that. But over time, she'd come to realize that the only way she was going to get any real answers was to actually track down and talk to this man who was a leader, but apparently betrayed everyone around him. Not that she didn't believe that was possible; she'd witnessed exactly that more than a few times in her life. But in her experience, that kind of leader didn't last long in this galaxy.

Now she simply sighs and lets him grumble and voice his thoughts. She didn't mind. I a fact, she encouraged it. Gave her a bit of insight into how his mind was working in any particular moment. The ancestors knew his mind was all over the place. At his assurances, she softens and places a gentle, warm hand over his.

"I know, Aiden. I know that's the most important thing to you. You know I trust you with my life, as do the others. They wouldn't be here otherwise. But," She adds gently, looking him in his eyes. "I want to be certain that we both know what we're doing before we tell them. United front, remember?"

"Reese…" Aiden used his affectionate nickname for her, taking some small comfort from the hand she placed over his. He could see the tattoos that wrapped around her wrists. Her "Blood Writing," she called it. A rite of passage to adulthood, if one could endure the pain in silent resolve. They were a constant and deeply personal memory of those lost to the Wraith.

Yet Aiden sought to turn them – his coalition of super soldiers – from their purpose. And for what? His own personal vendetta. He swore this must come to an end – one way or another. Then they could get back to doing what they did best: killing Wraith.

"Yeah, okay," Aiden consented. A united front. Of course. That made good sense. But, then, she usually did. Aiden admired that about her. She was always ready with an answer, or the advice he needed.

"Like I said. You and Keran should investigate. Mingle with the locals. See if anyone knows why Atlantis has come knocking. But do it discreetly. You never know who might be willing to sell us out. Especially to them." The one thing Aiden didn't want, however, was to leave the major's team unwatched. "Specialist can take Martel and Lantar," he continued. "We have them observe from a distance. That puts us in a position to strike, should you find what I think you will."

And they would find it, he was sure of it. "I want to send John a clear message, if he's gunning for me again: I'm not the naïve young kid he knew. Not anymore. So, if you think they're guilty, we strike. But that will be your call, Nyreese. If you're not convinced, I'm not convinced. Then you bring the team home."

"But if they are..." Aiden got that dangerous look in his eyes – the one that said he wasn't messing around. If he was being hunted… then that was a threat his team as well. And that needed to be handled. "I trust Keran to deal with them appropriately."

Most might mistake Keran's laid back front as laziness, but not Aiden. No, he recognized it as something else entirely. The look of a man biding his time. Waiting for the perfect time to strike. Atlantis might have them outmatched technologically, but if Keran had his way, that would never come into play. The first strike – the one you never expected – was always the most lethal.

Aiden would go himself, but he didn't trust himself around his former colleagues. The very people who'd betrayed him. He was afraid he'd snap; certainly, the photo of the Marine lieutenant was proof he might do so again. He'd assembled this team and spent years training most of them, honing their skills. He'd made them into a highly effective strike force – one that would and could function without him at its head.

Logged

Far Dareis Mai

Life is a dream — that knows no shade.Life is a dream — of pain and woe.A dream from which — we pray to wake.A dream from which — we wake and go